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Updated: May 17, 2025
He mentioned this to Harkaman and Alvyn Karffard; they both laughed. "Just holding ship's meetings," Karffard said. "They'll be yakking back and forth for a couple of hours, yet." "Yes; Valkanhayn and Spasso don't own their ships," Harkaman explained. "They've gone in debt to their crews for supplies and maintenance till everybody owns everything in common. The ships look like it, too.
They haven't. One thing, we do want to let down and give the men a chance to walk on ground and look at a sky for a while. The girls here aren't too bad, either," Harkaman said. "As I remember, some of them even take a bath, now and then." "That's the kind of news of Dunnan we're going to get.
I'd hate, though, to have you think, some time, that I'd advanced my own fortunes at the expense of yours." "Don't worry about that. If anybody's being taken advantage of, you are. I need a space-captain, and your misfortune is my own good luck." Harkaman started to pack tobacco into his pipe. "Have you ever been off Gram, at all?" he asked.
They had taken over Tanith on the same basis of diffused ownership, and nobody in either crew was quite stupid enough to think that they could do anything with the planet by themselves. By joining the Nemesis, it appeared that they were getting something for nothing. In the end, they voted to place themselves under the authority of Lord Trask and Admiral Harkaman.
It must be early autumn in the northern hemisphere; there was snow down to the sixtieth parallel and a belt of brown was pushing south against the green. Harkaman was sitting up, eating lunch. By the clock, it was four hours later. "Have a good nap?" he asked. "We're picking up some stuff, now. Radio and screen signals. Not much, but some.
The buzz of the communication screen one of the few things in the room that hadn't been looted somewhere interrupted him. They both rose; Harkaman, still carrying his drink, went to put it on. It was a man on duty in the control room, overhead, reporting that two emergences had just been detected at twenty light-minutes due north of the planet.
But a planet like that, if one had the survival equipment, would make a wonderful hideout. "What sort of a captain is this Teodor Vaghn?" he asked. "A good one," Harkaman said promptly. "He has a nasty streak sadistic but he knows his business and he has a good ship and a well-trained crew. You think he and Dunnan have teamed up?" "Don't you?
He could understand and sympathize, even if he couldn't approve of putting personal ahead of tactical considerations, and made a quick sealed-beam call to Harkaman to be prepared to plug any holes they left in formation if they broke away in search of vengeance. He also ordered the Black Star and the Sun Goddess to shepherd the lightly armed and troop-crammed Gilgamesh freighter out of danger.
And even if he doesn't, we can pick up more information on him, when ships start coming in here, than we would batting around all over the Old Federation." Harkaman considered for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, if we could set up a base like Nergal or Xochitl," he agreed. "There'll be four or five ships, Space Vikings, traders, Gilgameshers and so on, on either of those planets all the time.
Harkaman gulped his drink and set down the empty glass. "All right. You put out a general alert? Switch anything that comes in over to this screen." He got out his pipe and was packing tobacco into it mechanically. "They'll be out of the last microjump and about two light-seconds away in a few minutes."
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